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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001255">Hold Me While Shaking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallesbain/pseuds/naturallesbain'>naturallesbain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mental Health Of The Gang [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Child Abuse, Eating Disorders, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:42:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallesbain/pseuds/naturallesbain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallas's fic in my Mental Health Series. Read tags before continuing.</p><p>"He didn't know what was wrong with him, all he knew is that he needed to get fixed."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mental Health Of The Gang [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hold Me While Shaking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was lonely. He'd sit across from the gang, laughing along and smiling, but he was lonely.</p><p>He'd sit at night and remember the times when he wasn't so lonely. Remember how people who treat him before his mother passed. </p><p>They treated him with respect and kindness, and he, in return, was kind back. His mother was a nice woman, giving when she could and rarely taking. His father was nice, too. He was a hard-working family man that loved his job, his wife, and his kid. </p><p>That changed when his mom killed herself. It was November 9th, a cold day. The house had a small chill to it, the snow falling in thick flakes that made the roads slippery and dangerous. Dallas had woken up with excitement. </p><p>After all, it was his birthday. </p><p>He ran around the house before coming to the conclusion that she was out getting groceries. He went to the bathroom where he found her, hunched over the bathtub, blood running down her arms from the deep cuts that didn't seem to stop bleeding. </p><p>He screamed. </p><p>He didn't know what else to do. </p><p>His father had run into the room, muttering curse words, yelling at Dallas to call 911 while he wrapped her arms in bandages. </p><p>It was useless, by the time paramedics got there she was dead. </p><p>He cried so hard, and so did his father. They shared hugs with family members and friends as they let them know what had happened. </p><p>Dallas had woken up to screaming that night, his father had gone out and gotten booze. He was leaning over him, screaming at him about how it was 'His fault' while he handed him the note. </p><p>He was right, it had been his fault. </p><p>She said how it was so taxing to take care of a child she didn't even want, how much she hated Dallas, and how much she wished she got an abortion. </p><p>He allowed his father to beat him that night, pulling him out of the bed and beating him black, blue, and bloody. </p><p>They never spoke of it in the morning, either. He took a glance at Dallas's face and decided that after the funeral they would be moving to New York. </p><p>He had to grow up fast in New York, running around with gangs and getting small jobs to pay for food. </p><p>He decided that it would just be easier not to eat, too. His father would spit insults at him whenever he would eat, so he stopped. </p><p>He still loved his father, but his father didn't love him. </p><p>That's why he decided to run back to Tulsa. His father hated him, so he wouldn't miss him. </p><p>He met the Curtis's soon after, being welcomed into the gang with caution from his reputation, which somehow made it all the way to Tulsa. </p><p>The Curtis parents caught onto his eating habits soon after he started hanging around them more, sitting him down and telling him that they know and that they're there for him. </p><p>They were the only reason he ate. </p><p>After they died he started getting nervous, scared to be out in public. What would happen to him or the Curtis brothers? Does the gang hate me? They hate me, don't they? </p><p>Thoughts swirled around in Dallas's head, infecting the way he walked, talked, thought, and presented himself. </p><p>He was a wreck at the funeral, stuttering and nearly crying.</p><p>But Dallas Winston doesn't cry. </p><p>He doesn't need help, either. </p><p>He caught himself starving himself shortly after they passed. </p><p>Caught Pony cutting himself, too. He saw the scratches on his arms. </p><p>He started doing it, too. </p><p>Because he doesn't need help. </p><p>Dallas Winston doesn't need help.</p><p>He's fine. </p><p>He knows there's something wrong with him, but he doesn't care. </p><p>Because he doesn't need help. </p>
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